The Butterfly Effect
by My-Stars-Shine-Darkly-Over-Me
Summary: The Capitol Games. On Hiatus.
1. The Reaping

**If you didn't read the summary, I advise that you do that before you start to read this story.**

**Anyway, yes, it is the Capitol Games.**

**Reviews are appreciated! More reviews = more love = quicker updates.**

**So if you read this story, please try to review as much as possible! And no hate please! **

**The Reaping**

**Seraphina (Sera) Garroway (14) **

My footsteps fall lightly on the ashes of the long road as I walk towards the President's old mansion. The buildings stand tall and proud on either side of me, although their interior is burned and blackened. All around me, the smell of smoke and gas still fills the air, even though it has been days since the last fire. The streets once busy and full of people, are now empty and quiet.

I have not a clue to where my family is; for all I know, they could be dead. Burned, shot, poisoned, who knew? There was a chance they were alive, though. The rebellions didn't kill everyone - in fact, they killed less people that I would have imagined. After all those Hunger Games that we hosted, I wouldn't be surprised if they suddenly sent an atomic bomb to blow up the rest of the Capitol, so there was nothing left.

Now, each child between the ages of 12-18 had to go to the President's old mansion so 24 could be reaped to go into this year's Hunger Games. 12 girls and 12 boys would go in, just like it was for the districts all these years. Who knew what the arena would be like, maybe a copy of the Capitol? A field set on fire? Maybe there wouldn't even be a winner, maybe the rebellions would just let everyone die. I can understand why they would feel like that.

And we deserved it. The Capitol, I mean. We had hosted the Hunger Games every year to show the districts we were superior. What had we gained from it? Entertainment? Yes, we had found it fun to watch children from the districts kill each other. Looking back at it, I find it sick. How could we laugh and cheer and smile over the deaths of children? We were born to act like this - to be superior, my parents would say, the people in the districts were born to die, they would say.

_No_, I think, _we are all born to die._

I reach the mansion without realizing it and take a look at the crowd. It surprised me how dull they all looked. No colors or fancy clothes or things that altered their appearances so they seemed inhuman. That had all been burned away with the rest of their lives. The crowd looked like a crowd of people from the districts. There was no longer any "superior" quality to us that apparently we had had before. The citizens of the Capitol looked like real people for the very first time, and, I have to admit, it was kind of nice.

I see that I am late, for Katniss and Peeta, two of the rebels, are standing on the stage and asking about the rebellion and why they decided to have this one last Hunger Games. Everyone has on ratty clothes that are torn or burned in places, and nothing is a bright color. I look down at my own clothes, a dark green jacket that is unbuttoned revealing a grey tank top; black skinny jeans and black skate shoes, all of which are burnt and smell of smoke.

My hair, which once was dyed a bright blue, has lost its color and had gone back to its natural black. My hair was still cut in choppy layers, but it hadn't been combed and was now full of tangles. My eyes, now also their natural black, had once had yellow-green contacts in them. My skin no longer had that purplish tint to it; it was merely its natural pale color. I was still short and skinny - although skinner than normal due to the lack of food. I looked like a normal person - no, a _real _person - for the first time in my entire life.

When I looked back up at the stage, I saw that three kids were already standing there. Three had already been reaped, two girls and one boy. I looked at their scared faces, but didn't recognize any of them. They were young, all of them, the oldest being my age, and the youngest 12. I then watched as Peeta put one of his hands in a bowl and draw out a piece of paper. His blue eyes scanned the card as he read and the he looked out at the crowd, calling out a familiar name.

"Kian Lambert!" He called, and I watched as Kian made his way to the stage, his face looking nervous and hurt. His bright yellow hair was now a light brown, but still combed forward in that way he always wore it. His red eyes were now a nice ocean-blue, but his fair skin was still the same. At my old school, he had been the only thing girls would ever talk about, so it was kind of hard not to have heard of him. He was also one of those snobby rich kids, so, as you can imagine, he didn't even know a poor girl like me, living in the worst parts of the Capitol, existed.

Katniss called the next 4 girls names, all of which were people I knew only because they had gone to my school. Peeta called 4 more boys names as well, and I knew three of them. None were my friends, but then again, I hadn't really had any friends anyway.

Katniss reached he hand into the bowl once again, and my breath caught in my throat. I quickly reminded myself that my sister was too old to be reaped, but it didn't stop me from scanning the crowd and worrying about her every time a name from the girls' bowl was drawn.

"Seraphina Garroway!" Katniss yelled, for there was no microphone.

I felt my body tense and my breath catch once again. She couldn't have just said my name, could she have? I knew there was no point in trying to imagine it wasn't happening - that would just drive me mad. Instead, I forced my legs to move in the direction of the stage. I felt many people's eyes on me, but no one snicker or made a sound of amusement. No one volunteered either, but, who would? Not just for me, but for anyone. Even if the person you loved most in the world was reaped, I don't think one of these Capitol children would volunteer for them. I don't even think I would volunteer for my sister. You may think I am a bad person for saying that, but I'm not. It's the truth. Would you have?

I reached the stage and stood next to the boy that had just been reaped. A boy named Leandro Hadamik, he was one of the boys at my school and he lived in my same neighborhood. I had probably spoken as much as four words to him in my lifetime, but it still felt almost comfortable standing next to a familiar face who wasn't one of the preppy rich kids. Almost.

The rest of the names were called, but I didn't pay much attention to it. I was too busy trying to control my breathing to pay much attention to anything. The names I did, however, pick up on were unfamiliar and, at the moment, unimportant.

Once all the names were reaped, it was time to randomly match up the girls with the boys. I hoped I would be paired up with Leandro, but my life was just too screwed up for hope or, in this case, luck. When Katniss got to my name, I looked into her grey eyes and could see the empathy hidden secretly inside of them.

"Seraphina Garroway, you will be paired up with Kian Lambert." She announced and moved on to the next girl.

Kian came to stand beside me, and he nodded a head in greeting.

"Seraphina." He mused, looking me up and down. The look in his eyes told me that he knew who I was, and that I didn't like being called that.

"It's Sera. Like Sarah." I answered dully, without a sign of emotion crossing my face. I know how to read people, and that is why I always keep a straight face - so they can't read me.

"I know," he replied in a displeased voice. Either upset with my answer or the way I said it.

We were then escorted down the street by two rebels until we got to a big yellow building at the end, about a mile down the road and facing the mansion. Next to the building was an even bigger building which I knew our chariots would be waiting for us.

We walked into the building where I knew awaited our prep team and stylist. They were the same people from the 75th Games, besides Cinna, who had been killed and replaced me a young woman named Kuu.

The opening ceremony was in a few hours, and each of us tributes were to be dressed in the most "Capitol-like" clothing as possible.

I glanced into the eyes of Kian. He was the unbreakable bad-boy, the snobby, arrogant rich kid. He was the one who everyone knew, yet he knew no one. Kian was the one who treated everyone else like they didn't matter. What I saw in his eyes was an emotion I never thought he would show, or that he even knew.

Fear.

**R&R! Please tell me what you think! And no hate! The next chapter will be longer!**


	2. The Chariot Ride

**Haiiiiiii guysssssss. So, I don't know how long this chapter will be, due to the fact that it's the chariot ride (possible more than that), but I'll try to make it longish. The next chapter will be longer, it will contain the first training day, and those are generally longish. **

**I don't know about you, but I, for one, am very thankful for spell check and grammar check.**

**The Chariot Ride**

**Seraphina (Sera) Garroway (14)**

Apparently, the stylists and prep team were supposed to dress us up so we were half "Capitol-like" and half "natural"; or, at least that's what I heard from the murmurs of people as I was escorted to my awaiting prep team.

They looked normal enough, the three of them. Obviously, they had lost all of their fancy makeup and clothes as well. Maybe they just didn't have it in them to wear any of it. Or, maybe they had realized, like I that the citizens of the Capitol were real people under all of their accessories.

I winced as I lay down on my back on a cool slate of stone. Already, the stylists were muttering things to themselves, things like "poor girl", "what are these Games supposed to prove", and many other things about the rebels that I dare not repeat.

I felt something smooth move from the middle of my forehead, down my nose, and through my lips; cutting my face in half with a black makeup pencil. The stylists went to work on the left side of my face, taking turns putting on pounds of makeup and then fixing each others. The whole time, they left the right side of my face alone, and it felt so much cleaner than the other.

One lady with orange dye fading out of her curly brown hair took my arm and started drawing little music note all over my it. She then continued drawing them on my neck, and then on my face. I found this quite irrelevant, for I was not musically talented at all.

Someone tugged at my hair and I yelped as a few strands were pulled from my scalp. I glared at the young man who had done this, his hair white despite his young age. He dipped his head in an apology and started spraying the left side of my hair in stripes, starting at the top and coloring it neon yellow, and then bright yellow below that, and bright orange following that. He continued with the pattern for an agonizing long time while I just had to la on the cold slab and stare at the ceiling.

Finally, they had finished and I was left alone in the small, damp room. I knew my stylist would arrive shortly, so I sat up and stared at my reflection in the mirror that hung crooked on the wall, the flower wallpaper slowly peeling away. The scent of roses filled the air and I felt like gagging. The smell reminded me so much of the old President, who I had been unfortunate enough to meet when he had come to my school.

The right side of my face looked perfectly normal, all natural colors, my hair hung down simply, but it had been combed through and looked almost nice. The left side of my face, though... It looked destroyed, as if a child had draw all over it with a variety of colors. The musical notes didn't help, and neither did my multi colored hair which was out in some sort of bun on the side of my head. I had gotten neon pink contacts, and they made my eyes look wild and alive.

I gasped at the difference, looking at the different sides and comparing them. _I used to look like this_, I thought, staring at the left side - the fake side. I now understood why the all the prep teams were told to do this to their tributes, to see the difference. To show us that we weren't as far away front the people in the districts as we thought. To show us that there was nothing special about us, there was just a mask that covered up our natural features.

I jumped as the door swung open and a middle aged man walked in. He seemed to slide as he moved, and I saw that, instead of walking, he slid his feat on the ground; one in front of the other, never lifting them. His hair was as black as mine, his skin as pale too, but his eyes were an intense green and seemed to make his features even stranger.

For some unknown reason, he shook his head when he saw me, his hair falling into his eyes. He brushed it away with his hand and walked closer to me. His face was mere inches from mine, and I could smell alcohol and meat on his breath. The combination wasn't flattering, and I felt my eyes begin to water; little tears began falling from the edges.

"Hello," he hissed - literally - in a reptilian voice. _If snakes could talk_, I figured, _this is how they would sound. _"My name issss Balthar Combe, I will be your sssstylisssst."

I shivered, and he moved away, probably realizing I was uncomfortable with the closeness. I watched from the corner of my eye as he slid through a white door and returned carrying something on a hanger. I wrinkled my nose at the sight of the dress. It was like my makeup had been done, the right side was a simple, ivory dress that fell to my knee and was held a thin strap. On the right, though, was a lime green dress with about a million polka dots running the length of it in a rainbow of colors.

Balthar made me put it on, which I, for one, was not to pleased about. Once the dress was on, he zipped up the back for me and bent down to retrieve something from my floor. I looked in his hands and saw he was holding one white flat, and one five-inch heel black leather book with pink zebra stripes on it.

I put the flat on the right foot and the boot on the left, and may I say, it was not the most comfortable thing in the world. I had to hunch at a weird angle just so both feet were placed on the ground. I didn't understand how they expected me to stand, let alone walk, in these shoes. It seemed like a joke, and I waited the moment he would say "jusssst kidding, here'ssss your sssshoessss." Unfortunately for me, it wasn't a joke.

Balthar led me out of the room and through the building into the bigger building beside it that awaited all the chariots. I found Kian, looking angry and upset in a blue and green jumpsuit on his left and a formal black suit on his right. As soon as I reached him, he started to complain about his prep team and stylist, going on about how beautiful he was and how he didn't need any makeup, blah, blah, blah. I found it interesting as I half-listened to him to hear him complain about such things, because once would have worn something much like what he was wearing on his left side.

He kept talking, but I stopped listening altogether when he said something along the lines of "-and what are the girls going to think?". I scanned the room for Leandro, I saw a clump of, somewhat curly, brown hair and saw a his familiar, naturally tan skin and dark brown eyes. He and his family were even poorer than mine had been, and they had had four children, so, as you can imagine, his family had never been able to afford any of the fancy makeup or clothes or anything.

Now, half of his face looked like it was covered in sea-green scales, his eyes were neon green and his hair was hidden by a familiar black hat, which, of course, was worn backwards.

The hat reminded me of a time when he had gotten yelled at in front of my whole class for playing with it. Many had laughed, but I had just sighed and looked at the clock, wondering when the bell would ring. I don't know why I know so much about him, but thinking about him now, I realize that I know a lot more about him then I thought. He was kind of like Kian, I suppose. Everyone knew about him, but not for the same reasons everyone knew Kian. Leandro, although a year older than me, being 15, had been in my grade because he had gotten held back. Not because he was stupid, but because he was one of those people that was constantly getting in trouble. He got so many detentions that the teachers decided it would be best if he were held back.

I must have been staring at him, because once I had caught back up with reality, I saw that he was looking at me with a puzzled look. I turned around slowly, not letting any emotion take place on my features. I started to brush one of the horses with my hand.

The horses had been originally white, but now were each splattered in probably 30 difference shades of purple. The chariot, too, had been splattered with paint, but not just purple. There were probably 50 different colors all together, each so bright that I wouldn't be surprised if the chariot glowed it the dark. In fact, I would be surprised if you couldn't see the colors even in the darkest of night.

A whistle blew, telling us it was time to enter our chariots. Kian climbed up and offered me a hand, which I slapped aside and climbed up myself. We each held on to the front of the chariot and I watched as the first chariot went through the doors. I was shocked to hear screams of the crowd, and I wondered if the citizens of the Capitol were there. The people of the districts would be there, but I wasn't sure how many people had come to the Capitol. Some had stayed in their districts; some went to district 2, some to district 13. We all knew it by know, but I really didn't matter if we knew or not. We had lost the war.

Our chariot moved forward and I would've fallen off if I hadn't been holding on so tight. I heard a creaking noise, and saw it was coming from one of the wheels. It was an annoying, constant sound that made me want to rip it off. Luckily, the cheers blocked out the sound, and I stared out at the crowd.

I couldn't tell if the faces were citizens of the Capitol, or people from the districts. I doubted any Capitol citizens would attend this, but I scanned the crowd anyway, longing for a familiar face. It was over soon, too soon in my opinion. I needed more time; I needed to see if there were any Capitol citizens, I just had to. There had to be someone left anyone. They couldn't all be dead, could they? Maybe they were helping each other.

I cursed myself inwardly; it was foolish to think such things. _Like _they_ would ever help us_, I thought bitterly and then scolded myself for doing so. The Capitol and the districts had never gotten along, period.

The chariot stopped abruptly and I was sent falling forward. I nearly fell over the front of the chariot, and would have if Kian hadn't grabbed my arm and hauled be back into a standing position.

"Good one, Sera," he laughed, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Shut it, Kian. You don't have to wear a flat shoe on one foot, and a boot with a five-inch heel on the other." I snapped, glaring at him and rubbing my hands from where I had clenched the front of the chariot.

I really needed to start paying more attention. I kept getting distracted and it was getting more than annoying. That was clearly someone I needed to work on before I went into the arena. If I got this distracted in the Games, I would be killed in the bloodbath.

_Even anyone has the guts to kill someone, that is. _

I looked up at the balcony of the President's old house. Katniss stood there, Peeta by her side like always. Johanna Mason was there as well - a past victor who had survived the 75th Hunger Games as well as her own. There were other people with her - too many to name, and not of much importance. I realized Katniss was finishing up a speech a second later, and listened to the last few words she had to say.

Once she was done, we were escorted out of our chariots by Peacekeepers. Another disadvantage us Capitol kids had this year was that we didn't have a mentor or an escort. They expected us to do everything by ourselves. It also meant I'd be eating dinner alone, with Kian, and that was something I was not looking forward to.

The Peacekeepers escorted each pair of tributes to an awaiting car, which they were loaded into and then driven away. Typically, Kian and I were the last to leave, just because our Peacekeepers were so nice and offered everyone else the cars.

The ride to the hotel was silent, neither I nor Kian made any attempt to talk, so it ended up being more awkward than it needed to be. The driver occasionally asked us a question, but our answers were usually only yes or no, or - if the occasion called for it - a few short words. He told us that we were staying on floor 5 and that if we ever needed anything that we could call him, and he gave us a card with his number on it.

We arrived at the hotel and took the elevator up to the 5th floor. The door opened, revealing a living room with a giant flat-screen TV, and a long, wooden dining table. There were two doors outside of the living room that I figured went to our rooms. I walked through the door and went to the first door, leaving Kian behind me. I was much too tired to talk, and if I were to talk to anyone right now, it certainly would not be him.

I pushed open the door, inside was a queen-size bed with a table on either side, a giant window looking out at the streets below, and two more doors on the far side of the room. There was also a big drawer to one side, and I went there first.

I looked through the nightgowns, and picked up a long white one with sleeves that reached my ankles. I pulled it out and opened one of the doors; inside we're rows of clothes, all hanging on different racks. I closed the door and opened the next one, showing a white tiled floor with a toilet leading off to one side, a big bathtub, a sink with a mirror, and a shower.

I tore the shoes off my feet and threw them at the door; they made a satisfying _thud_ when they hit, and I grinned, happy to be free of them for the rest of my life. _However long that is, _an amused voice said in the back of my mind. I glared inwardly and shook it off, trying to forget about it.

I took of the annoying dress and grabbed a towel, soaking it before scrubbing the makeup off my face and arms. Once it was all gone, I stepped into the shower, enjoying the warm water on my body. My mind started drifting to different subjects until it landed on one I hadn't thought of before.

If I were to be in an alliance, who would I trust more, Kian or Leandro? I went over it a few times in my head, not exactly coming up with a conclusion to that _exact _question, but I did decide on something.

If anything, I was going to play these games by myself. An alliance would just turn on me, like they always did in these Games. A wasn't a people person anyway.

**I'm sorry this chapter was so boring! Don't worry. The next chapter won't be boring, I promise! R&R! No hate! **


	3. Count on Me

**Blahhhhhhhh. School + soccer + homework = no time to write. I hate it so much. I have no time to do anything.**  
**Ugh, I can never make up my mind about ANYTHING and that's not even exaggerating. I hate it. I have a problem.**  
**(Oh, and the song lyrics idea was inspired by wjjmwmsn5)**

* * *

_When your dreams all fail_  
_And the ones we hail_  
_Are the worst of all_  
_And the blood's run stale_  
_- Demons, by the Imagine Dragons_

* * *

**Count on Me**  
**Seraphina (Sera) Garroway (14)**  
The Training Arena was interesting enough. Or, at least, no one seemed like they were feeling apathy. In fact, most seemed awfully giddy despite the fact that they were throwing knives and spears at life-size cut outs of people. It was almost sickening, the way they threw. With such accuracy you would've assumed they were Careers.  
No, not careers, not quite, I remind myself and work on the fire I've been trying to build, just to keep my hands busy. Frustration takes over me as I curse under my breath and throw the 14th match down next to the other broken ones. Everyone thinks building a fire is so simple, but it's not. Unless you have tried it, you can't really say how easy it is, can you?  
I walk away from the station, the scent of smoke surrounding me as I walk past successful fires by different tributes. The smell of ash is revolting, and I nearly choke trying to escape. I stop to watch one fire in particular, the orange and red flames leaping and dancing. The tribute puts a green leaf on the fire and it begins to burn and make a crackling noise. The green on the leaf also makes smoke and I have to walk away before I gag.  
**(A/N: OKAY THIS STORY IS PISSING ME OFF. I am unhappy with many things, such as: the characters, the plot, my thoughts of what will happen, what has happened, how boring it is, how it's taking away from other things. Don't try to make me stop, and don't review on this chapter. If anything, PM me. But you aren't stopping me from either deleting this story or putting it on hiatus. UPDATE: I have decided on putting this story on hiatus.)**


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